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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24495925">I Could Fix the Broken In Your Heart</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lucifleur/pseuds/Lucifleur'>Lucifleur</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman &amp; Terry Pratchett</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bottom Crowley (Good Omens), Don't copy to other sites, First Time, Lap Sex, Love Confessions, Lust Potion/Spell, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Post-Armageddon, Top Aziraphale (Good Omens), some unpleasantness associated with that sort of thing</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 05:14:33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,134</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24495925</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lucifleur/pseuds/Lucifleur</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Hastur and Ligur dose Crowley with a demonic lust potion, intent on making him hurt Aziraphale, and Crowley has to keep himself away from his angel until he can think straight again. (Not that Crowley has ever thought <em>straight</em>) His best laid plans go awry when Aziraphale rushes over, worried about him.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>255</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Top Aziraphale Recs</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Title from a Cash Cash song, How to Love</p><p>No non-con happens between Crowley and Aziraphale, but chapter 1 is still rough for him. Chapter 2 will make it all better.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>      Crowley sauntered out onto the street, ready to meet Aziraphale for dinner. They’d been meeting for dinner (or coffee or lunch or a drink) rather more often since the world hadn’t ended.  He ran his fingers through his hair, artfully tousling it to the correct degree of order and disorder. All part of his look; cool without trying, oozing nonchalance and, hopefully, devastatingly sexy.  A few blocks from his apartment however, he smelled something rotten coming from a dingy alleyway. Before he had time to react, someone grabbed him and pulled him out of sight. It was Hastur, and he forced Crowley’s arms behind his back so that it hurt to move them, holding him in some kind of wrestling position, maybe, Crowley thought wildly as he twisted and snarled. Then he spotted Ligur, who was apparently restored when the world was reset. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>      “Hallo there, Crowley,” he said, pulling his lips back in a sneer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>      “Hastur and Ligur, my two favorite demons,” replied Crowley, looking up and down the alley. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>      “Well, Hastur and I have been thinking,” started Ligur. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>      “There’s a surprise,” Crowley muttered. Ligur stepped in close and punched him in the stomach. He curled in on himself, wheezing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>      “As I was saying. Hastur and I have been thinking, just because we can’t destroy you doesn’t mean we can’t do some nasty things to you. Proper torturous, even,” said Ligur, reaching into a jacket pocket and producing a small bottle of black liquid. “We had Stolas mix up something special for you.” Crowley grit his teeth and considered stomping on Hastur’s foot and making a break for it, or maybe trying to kick Ligur. That probably wouldn’t work, it would be two on one. Before he could think any further, Ligur grabbed his hair and pulled, yanking his head back and pressing the open bottle to his lips in one smooth motion. The black liquid flowed into his mouth, bitter and chalky, and he choked, trying to spit it out, but gravity was working against him. He ended up swallowing most of it as he thrashed back and forth. Hastur let go, and Crowley spit the rest out, the liquid dribbling down his chin. He coughed, staggering away from them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>      “Well, that wasn’t particularly torturous, guys. Are you losing your touch?” said Crowley, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and glaring. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>      “Just wait until it starts working, you smug bastard. You won’t be able to stop yourself from abusing that dainty angel of yours. He’ll be </span>
  <em>
    <span>thoroughly</span>
  </em>
  <span> corrupted after you’re finished with him,” said Hastur, smirking. They disappeared in a puff of smoke and brimstone, ever the essentialists. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>      Crowley leaned up against the wall of the alley, feeling sick; the potion must be working already. Although, that might be the suffocating dread that had taken up residence in his stomach. It was one thing to hurt him, but forcing him to... </span>
  <em>
    <span>hurt</span>
  </em>
  <span> Aziraphale was a great deal worse. He had to come up with a plan. Immediately after he retreated to his apartment to try to throw up. </span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>      Aziraphale stood inside his bookshop, rocking back and forth on his heels, and consulted his pocket watch. Crowley was almost an hour late. He was never this late. Or at the very least, he would have called by now. Aziraphale straightened his already immaculate waistcoat and tapped his fingers against each other. Perhaps he should call, in case something was delaying Crowley. He picked up the handset of his rotary phone and dialed. It rang several times, so many Aziraphale thought it might go to the answering machine, but Crowley picked up at last. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>      “Ah, hello, Crowley. I’m just calling to inquire if something has come up to interfere with our dinner plans,” said Aziraphale, formally. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>      “Sssorry, angel,” came the strained reply. “I’m not,” he broke off, moaning shakily. “Ffeeling well. Have to take—mmmMMM—a rain check,” he added through gritted teeth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>      “My dear boy, what ever is the matter?” asked Aziraphale, gripping the handset tighter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>      “Nothing! It’s nothing,” said Crowley, breathlessly. “Don’t come over.” </span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>      Crowley stabbed the end call button and threw his phone across the room, cursing. Now Aziraphale would definitely come over. He pulled off his sunglasses, throwing them as well, and burrowed his head in his pillow, resisting the urge to rut his hard cock against the mattress. Aziraphale’s smell suddenly permeated his flat, and his pupils dilated, his fingernails becoming claws, saliva filling his mouth. His erection became downright painful, and his heartbeat pounded inside his skull. </span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>      “Crowley? Crowley!” shouted Aziraphale, panicking, hurrying down the hallway, flinging open the doors until he reached the bedroom. Crowley was splayed out across his black sheets, his shirt soaked with sweat, his eyes glassy, breathing unevenly. “Crowley, what is it?” Aziraphale approached the bed slowly, worry shining in his eyes. Crowley shuddered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>      “Ssstop me,” he hissed, his claws catching on the sheets as he clenched his hands into fists.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>      “What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>      “Ssstop me,” snarled Crowley. His eyes flickered, then changed. Aziraphale felt the air change too, something cloying and diseased, sweet like rotting flowers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>      “Stop you from what? Crowley?” asked Aziraphale, reaching out to touch him. Crowley flung himself at the angel, digging his claws into his shoulders and tackling him to the ground. He licked a stripe up Aziraphale’s neck and groaned in satisfaction. “Crowley!” snapped Aziraphale, pushing him off easily and scooting away. The pinprick wounds on his shoulders really hurt, and what the devil was Crowley playing at? Crowley slithered across the floor and tugged at Aziraphale’s trouser fastenings, panting. Aziraphale pushed him away again, even more confused. Crowley scrabbled at his own button and fly before ripping his trousers open and advancing on Aziraphale once more. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>      Aziraphale pulled himself together and snapped his fingers. Crowley was suddenly bound, hand and foot, to his bed. He arched his back and twisted, desperately tugging at the restraints, which were leather cuffs, miraculously strong and blessed just enough to inhibit his powers. His prick was straining against his underwear in the ruins of his trousers, a damp patch rapidly forming. Aziraphale averted his eyes, looking instead at Crowley’s face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>      “Crowley! Look at me!” insisted Aziraphale. “Focus. What happened to you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>      “ ’M so hard, angel,” Crowley whined, rocking his hips. “Just let me touch you, for God’s sake.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>      “Crowley, what happened?” said Aziraphale. “Remember, we were going out to dinner, but you never showed up.” Crowley’s breathing slowed somewhat, and he screwed his eyes shut for a moment, thinking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>      “Hastur and Ligur came by and gave me this weird thing to drink, but that’s not important right now, angel. What’s important is how goddamn fuckable your mouth is,” said Crowley, licking his lips and groaning appreciatively. Aziraphale started back, blinking in surprise. “Do you even know how many times I’ve sat there across from you while you moan like a whorish, dirty slut over some piece of food, just thinking what your soft, pink lips would look like wrapped around my cock?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>      “Must be a lust potion, or something,” murmured Aziraphale to himself. But how long would it last? He absentmindedly healed the skin of his shoulders, frowning. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>      “I usually enjoy some good bondage as much as the next demon, very kinky of you, by the way, angel. But I’ll be getting on with it now,” said Crowley, grinning. He snapped his fingers. Nothing happened. He growled and tried again. Nothing. “Oh, you frigid bitch! Let me out! I know you want me! I’ve see the way you look at me, with lust in your heart.” Aziraphale turned and pulled up a chair. He sat with his back straight, legs crossed at the ankles, and watched placidly as Crowley pulled at the cuffs again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>      “Crowley. You’re in an altered state of mind,” he started. </span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>      “Come on! What’s it gonna take? How can I sweeten the pot? I could conjure up a tight, wet pussy for you to fuck. But no, wait,” said Crowley, grinning maliciously. The words felt like bile rising in his throat, but he couldn’t swallow them down. “We both know you’re a pansy little </span>
  <em>
    <span>faggot,</span>
  </em>
  <span> I bet you’d rather fuck my arse. Isn’t that right?” Aziraphale didn’t respond, but he swallowed and looked away. “Or maybe it’s the other way around, maybe you’d like to have my cock in that deliciously fat arse of yours, hmm? You could ride me until your soft thighs are trembling, or I could fuck you into the bed and watch your tits jiggle while I pound you. So many options!” He was burning with shame and infernal heat and watched with horror as Aziraphale’s lip trembled. Why couldn’t he stop talking?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>      “You’re not yourself,” Aziraphale said, shakily taking a breath. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>      “Or, or! Or maybe you’d prefer to have me suck on that thick, tasty cock you keep hidden away so fastidiously. Is that what you got up to at that discrete gentlemen’s club? Did you like having your cock sucked by some bright-eyed young thing? Is that what you like? Watching them gag on you?” That would break his fever, that would make him feel better, he was sure, having his angel’s hard cock in his mouth and down his throat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>      “Crowley, please. You’re being positively beastly,” said Aziraphale, his own eyes bright with tears. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>      “You’re being positively beastly,” mocked Crowley in a high, nasal voice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>      “Really!” said Aziraphale, reproachfully. He crossed his arms. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>      “Jesus, Mary and Joseph, angel, you’re killing me here. I mean, I knew you couldn’t take a hint, but I’m begging you for it now,” groaned Crowley, spreading his legs as much as the restraints allowed, trying to present himself to the recalcitrant angel. “Why do you think I’ve been wearing such tight pants for the past century?” And there Aziraphale was, buttoned up and tidied away, hiding his plush body from him, pretending he wasn’t loving this, wasn’t getting off watching Crowley squirm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>      “I’m sure I don’t know,” said Aziraphale stiffly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>      “It’s because I’d like nothing more than for you to bend me over and fuck me into next week, angel!” he shouted, panting. He had seen Aziraphale looking, over the years, seen him press his hands more firmly together, lick his lips, and look away. “But I’m not picky, in fact, I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>very</span>
  </em>
  <span> flexible. I wouldn’t object to fucking you into next week, so long as I have you, in me, on me, under me, please! Just... just take your pick.” Crowley was sure he’d writhe out of his skin if this kept up. Didn’t Aziraphale want him? What was the matter? Crowley couldn’t think of a single good reason Aziraphale wasn’t currently taking a trip with him to pound town. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>      “I’m not going to dignify that with a response, Crowley,” said Aziraphale, opening a book he’d pulled from the ether and settling back into his chair. He was always so terribly stubborn when he got an idea into his fluffy head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>      “Please, God!” he growled. “What exactly do you want? I do anything, fucking anything, if you just let me out of these blessed cuffs! Do you want me bigger, smaller, more muscular? I’ll do it, I can change!” Aziraphale said nothing. “Do you want someone else altogether? I can do that too!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>      “I’m sure I don’t want you to be anyone but yourself, Crowley,” he said, glancing up. “I... Well. I don’t even know if you’re going to remember any of this.” </span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>      Aziraphale, of course, loved Crowley up and down, exactly as he was under normal circumstances. He had come to terms with that some time ago and had also come to the conclusion that this was a very dangerous fact, and that no one, not even Crowley, could know. His only hope was that this... potion or spell would wear off by itself. He could try contacting the young Anathema Device, but he doubted she would know what to do. If Hastur and Ligur had dosed him with something, it would be diabolic magic, not earthly magic. Aziraphale stared resolutely at the page in front of him, despite not processing the words. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>      “Then what’s the holdup, angel? Come onnnn, I’m sure a debauchery-loving little hedonist like you isn’t used to denying yourself anything,” Crowley whined, arching his back, his erection jutting out lewdly from his ripped fly, his tongue hanging out between his teeth, chest heaving. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>      “I deny myself things</span>
  <em>
    <span> all the time, </span>
  </em>
  <span>dear boy,” snipped Aziraphale, pretending to smile. Was there any truth to anything spewing from Crowley’s mouth? Or was it the potion talking? Had he really been... lusting after him so long? Did he really think Aziraphale never denied himself pleasures? Aziraphale shook his head and went back to ‘reading.’ </span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>      Crowley collapsed back into the mattress, worn out from struggling. He was pulled taut, wrung out, thrumming with need. His clothes were drenched with sweat, and the skin on his wrists and ankles was tender from his efforts to escape. He couldn’t for the infernal life of him figure out why Aziraphale hadn’t gone along with this. What in Heaven, Earth and Hell could be the problem? Maybe if Aziraphale just got a little closer. He cleared his throat. Aziraphale looked up from his stupid book. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>      “Angel,” said Crowley, his throat dry. “Angel, I’m burning up here.” Aziraphale put his book down and stood up. “At least let me take my clothes off, it’s so hot.” Aziraphale pressed the back of his hand to Crowley’s forehead to take his temperature. Crowley bit his lip and moaned, pressing up into the contact. Aziraphale snatched his hand away in shock, looking at Crowley strangely. He snapped his fingers, and Crowley was suddenly naked except for his underwear. He whimpered, nestling down into his sheets and sighing. That was a start. “Can. Can I lie on my front?” he said, batting his eyelashes and looking up at him. Aziraphale hesitated but snapped his fingers again, releasing the ankle cuffs and switching the wrist cuffs so that Crowley could roll over. He did, moaning and pressing his hips to the mattress. He rocked back and forth once, twice, then spasmed, groaning long and loud. Aziraphale shuffled back a few steps, clearing his throat nervously. Crowley screwed his eyes shut and let out a growl of frustration. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>      It wasn’t right; it wasn’t enough! Crowley adjusted his legs and tried again, thrusting his still hard cock into the mattress, covered in his own spend. After a few moments he came again, just as shallowly and unsatisfyingly as the first time. He shuddered, burying his face in the pillow and whining. Why wouldn’t Aziraphale take pity on him? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>      “Angelllll, it hurts,” he pouted, turning to look at him. “Please touch me, </span>
  <em>
    <span>please.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>      “I won’t take advantage of you like that, Crowley,” said Aziraphale solemnly, sitting back down. He summoned a damp cloth to his hand and gently wiped some of the perspiration from Crowley’s flushed face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>      “How could it possibly be taking advantage of me when I’ve wanted you the entire goddamn time we’ve been working together? Don’t you know I sodding care for you?” he howled, yanking at the cuffs again. </span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>      Aziraphale swallowed and laced his fingers between Crowley’s, doing his best to hold his hand despite the awkward position. Crowley whined and gripped his hand, his claws digging in, the touch seeming to electrify him, but Aziraphale didn’t pull away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>      “Easy, Crowley, deep breaths,” he said calmly. “Try not to get too worked up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>      “Worked up? Worked up?! I’m only worked up because you’re fifty times the prude I thought you were! I can’t believe you don’t want a piece of my tight arse; I’ll be the best you’ve ever had.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>      “Yes, of course, dear,” said Aziraphale mildly, rubbing his thumb across Crowley’s knuckles. Crowley grumbled something obscene into the pillow and started grinding against the bed with a soft squelching noise. He came, again, toes curling, shuddering and gasping. He went slack then, legs twitching, drooling onto the pillow. After a moment, Crowley’s claws shrank back to fingernails, and he made a choked-off little noise, breath hitching—he was crying. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>      “Crowley? Crowley?” said Aziraphale, releasing the cuffs with a quick miracle. Crowley pulled his hand back and curled up, facing away from Aziraphale. He let out a muffled sob. </span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>      He felt disgusting, and he was disgusting. And wretched and pitiful. And Aziraphale had sat there patiently while he said cruel and terrible things to him and about him. Hot tears escaped from his clenched eyes, and his shoulders shook. And now he was crying, like an idiot. Like a weakling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>      Aziraphale would never forgive him. Or maybe he would, but that would be worse. If Crowley had fought back harder against Hastur and Ligur, if he’d kept Aziraphale away, kept his mouth shut. In any case, it was all his fault, and everything was ruined forever. He bit back a whimper and heard Aziraphale shift slightly, surely about to leave. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>      But he didn’t. Minute after minute passed, and Aziraphale did not leave his side. After a while, Crowley cried himself to exhaustion and lay there silently. Aziraphale finally cleared his throat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>      “I think we’d best get you cleaned up. I’m going to touch you, is that alright?” he said carefully. Crowley gave a tight nod. Aziraphale snapped his fingers, vanishing the soiled underwear and fluids. He eased his arms under Crowley’s back and knees, lifting him bridal style and carrying him to the bathroom as though he didn’t weigh a thing. He kept his face turned away. Aziraphale set him down on the closed lid of the toilet. Crowley looked down at himself and felt fresh tears spring to his eyes, clouding his vision. His cock lay in his lap, finally soft, miraculously clean. He didn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>feel</span>
  </em>
  <span> clean.  </span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>      Aziraphale ran his fingers under the stream of water. Once satisfied with the temperature, he let the bathtub start to fill. Crowley sat motionless, curled in on himself and staring at the floor. It was only with great self-restraint that Aziraphale stopped himself from wringing his hands and asking Crowley if he was alright. What kind of question would that be to ask at a time like this? He turned off the tap and once again lifted Crowley, gently lowering him into the bath, which had obligingly given itself a layer of bubbles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>      “Would you like me to leave?” he asked. Crowley said nothing, frowning. “Not </span>
  <em>
    <span>leave</span>
  </em>
  <span> leave, I’ll just be in the living room,” added Aziraphale. Crowley nodded. “Right then, I’ll just, uh...” He trailed off, bringing the door closed behind him. He let his breath out, shoulders slumping. He retreated to the living room and perched himself on a terribly modern sofa. Should he be doing something else? Something more? He didn’t know. He hadn’t thought ahead past the end point of the spell. He summoned his book to his hand and tried once more to read. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>      It was almost an hour later when Crowley appeared, wrapped in a black bathrobe, damp hair pushed away from his face. Aziraphale gave him a small smile, but Crowley was looking at the floor. He shuffled over and flopped into an armchair, pulling up his legs and folding his arms. Aziraphale snapped his fingers, and two mugs of hot chocolate appeared on the low, grey table. He picked one up and offered it to Crowley. </p><p>      “With just a tot of brandy,” he said. Crowley accepted it after a moment of hesitation. Aziraphale picked up his own mug, wrapping his hands around it and settling back into the sofa as best he could; it was too firm to be properly comfortable. “I, uh, took care of the sheets,” said Aziraphale, to fill the silence. Crowley took a sip of his cocoa. The glow of streetlights reflecting off the asphalt illuminated the room dimly. A car hummed past outside, and Aziraphale fiddled with one of the buttons on his waistcoat.</p><p>      “Why are you being so nice to me? After what I said?” asked Crowley, his voice hoarse from shouting, still not looking at him. </p><p>      “Because you didn’t mean it. Not the nasty parts, anyway,” said Aziraphale. “That wasn’t you.”</p><p>      “What if I did mean it?” he said, wretchedly. </p><p>      “Well, did you?”</p><p>      “No, but—”</p><p>      “But nothing. You’re much too kind to think such things about your oldest friend,” said Aziraphale, matter-of-factly, taking a sip of cocoa. “And I think I would have noticed by now if you <em> really </em> felt that I was a, uh, ‘pansy little faggot’ or ‘debauchery-loving hedonist,’” he added primly. “Besides, I’ve been denying myself my deepest desire for ages. Not entirely sure what’ll I do with myself now.”</p><p>      “Why? What’s your deepest desire?” said Crowley, sniffing. </p><p>      “You, my dear,” said Aziraphale, smiling. “I have loved you and wanted you for the longest time.”</p><p>      “Y—you never said,” said Crowley, almost accusatively. </p><p>      “No, I didn’t. I wanted to, my dear, but I couldn’t. No one could know,” said Aziraphale. </p><p>      “Well, I wouldn’t have bloody told anyone,” muttered Crowley. </p><p>      “That’s—I knew <em> that, </em> Crowley. But you would have behaved differently, surely. We had altogether too many close calls as it was, imagine if you’d, if we had...” Aziraphale trailed off, looking into his cocoa. Crowley grumbled himself to silence, taking a drink. </p>
<hr/><p>      Aziraphale was right, damn him. As it stood, Crowley had broken him out of the Bastille, saved him from Nazis, wined and dined with him countless times, and teamed up with him to betray the bureaucracy of the universe. Not to mention trying to persuade him to run away together when he thought they were out of options. What would Crowley have done if they’d admitted their love to each other? Crowley levered himself to standing and sat back down next to Aziraphale. </p><p>      “Thank you for, um,” said Crowley. He cleared his throat.</p><p>      “You’re most welcome, my dear,” said Aziraphale, reaching out his hand between them. Crowley took it.</p>
<hr/><p>      They went slowly, after that. Sitting closer at restaurants, exchanging smiles and softly pressing their lips together. Crowley would lounge on the bookstore couch, listening to Aziraphale chatter away. And Aziraphale would sit, mending crumbling bindings, and tell him about how he got one book or another, about the audacity of past customers, about some of the blessings that hadn’t been part of the Arrangement, about the lovely little hole-in-the-wall Korean noodle place he’d wandered past. And Crowley would say, ‘oh really,’ and ‘how dare they’, and ‘go on then,’ and ‘we should try it sometime.’ </p><p>      They went to the Ritz and the Savoy. They dined in Paris and Venice, in Tokyo and Nairobi. They walked, hand in hand, along the banks of the Nile, the Eurphrates and the Ganges. They looked up at Chomolungma and the Matterhorn and Mount Fuji. Aziraphale would lean over and kiss Crowley’s cheek, and Crowley would pretend to complain. And then they would retire to Aziraphale’s flat above the bookshop.</p>
<hr/><p>      Crowley poured another glass for Aziraphale, then himself. It was a passable, if pale, rosé, and Crowley was trying to explain the plot of a movie as they slouched, side by side, on an overstuffed sofa in the apartment above the bookshop. Jackets had been removed, and Crowley’s sunglasses lay folded on the table.</p><p>      “So, then, right, Bond’s fighting the guy, and the guy says, ‘for England, James?’ And Bond says, ‘no, for me,’ and he drops him off the edge of the uh, you know. And the ruddy great nuclear magnet space... gun, thing burns up somehow. And then, uh, and then Love Interest Woman flies in and saves him with a helicopter,” said Crowley, gesturing broadly before putting down the bottle. “And the whole thing blows up as they make their escape.”</p><p>      “Goodness me. Sounds very dramatic,” said Aziraphale, who had absorbed very little. </p><p>      “Oh yes,” muttered Crowley. “Lots of driving around and shooting at each other. S’all a bit sexist though.” He slung his arm around Aziraphale. Aziraphale scooted closer and rested his head against Crowley’s chest. It was an awkward angle, however, and after a few moments, Crowley pulled him onto his lap. Aziraphale straddled him, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. This position meant that his arse was slightly raised, and Crowley snaked his arms around to stroke and cup his ample buttocks. Aziraphale wriggled in response, his breath hot against Crowley’s shoulder. </p><p>      “Mmm, enjoying yourself?” he said, arching his back. </p><p>      “Oh, yes,” said Crowley. “Although, these aren’t ideal groping trousers.”</p><p>      “And what would ideal groping trousers be, my dear?”</p><p>      “Probably some kind of leggings,” mused Crowley. “Or maybe sweatpants, I could slip my hands under the waistband and get a good handful.”</p><p>      “You’re a handful,” murmured Aziraphale, pressing a kiss to the side of his neck. </p><p>      “And you love me for it,” grinned Crowley.</p><p>      “It’s true, I love you all the more for the ways you don’t fit the mold, the ways you push and test and challenge,” said Aziraphale, bracing himself against the back of the couch to look Crowley in the eyes as he flushed lightly. Crowley urged him forward, pressing their lips together. Aziraphale’s tongue teased into his mouth, and Crowley gripped the backs of his thighs. He drew back, barely an inch. </p><p>      “Think ’m going to sober up,” he said, kissing Aziraphale again. </p><p>      “Oh?” said Aziraphale, who’d been enjoying the flushed and floaty feeling.</p><p>      “Mmm, I want to remember this perfectly,” Crowley purred. He was only tipsy to begin with, and in a moment, he had his clarity back. </p><p>      “Good point, my dear.” Aziraphale did the same, grimacing at the taste left in his mouth. He mouthed at Crowley’s neck meanwhile, and Crowley teased his nimble fingers under Aziraphale’s waistcoat, the warmth of his hand seeping through Aziraphale’s shirt and undershirt. His hand drifted downward to hold Crowley’s slender hip and brush against his growing erection, pressing against the seam of his pants. Crowley froze, his breath catching in his throat, and Aziraphale pulled his hand back, worried. </p><p>      “Angel, I—”</p><p>      “Oh, Crowley, was—” They both stopped short. “Was that too much?”</p><p>      “No,” said Crowley, quickly. Then, “Mmph, maybe, I... I want...” </p><p>      “How about another kiss?” said Aziraphale, resting his hand on Crowley’s shoulder. Crowley nodded and tilted his head to press his lips against his angel’s. Aziraphale kissed him until the tension drained from his shoulders, then kept kissing him. He drew back slightly and held Crowley’s face in his soft hand, brushing his thumb across his sharp cheekbone. </p><p>      “I... I want you, Aziraphale,” Crowley breathed, his golden eyes blown wide. </p><p>      “How shall we, um. I wouldn’t want to overload you,” said Aziraphale, his brow pinched slightly. </p><p>      “I don’t know.” Crowley looked down and picked at an invisible thread on his pants. </p><p>      “Perhaps... if we go very slowly?”</p><p>      “Might work,” he muttered. Aziraphale stood up, taking his hand and lead the way to his bedroom. He sat on the edge of the bed, licking his lips. “I think a good place to start would be that little scarf thing, my dear.” Crowley pulled it over his head and let it fall to the floor. “Here, join me on the bed,” he added, kicking off his shoes and sitting cross-legged on top of the comforter. Crowley swallowed and did the same, folding his bony legs under him. “That’s it, darling. Unbutton your vest for me.” Crowley’s fingers were trembling as he did so, then pulled the vest off and dropped it over the edge of the bed. “Still alright?”</p><p>      “Yes,” he breathed, his face feeling warm. Aziraphale licked his lips and took off his own waistcoat and shirt, exposing his soft chest and rounded stomach. “Can I... can I just take it all off?” asked Crowley, unsure.</p><p>      “Of course, dear, anything you want,” said Aziraphale. Crowley snapped his fingers, and his clothes were scattered across the floor. Aziraphale let himself look, at long last, at Crowley’s lean torso and long legs, his halfway hard cock. “Beautiful. Absolutely stunning.” Crowley blushed and looked away, picking at the comforter beneath him. Aziraphale stood up and pushed his trousers down, then vanished his socks and underwear. Crowley’s gaze was dragged back to admire his soft arms, his round thighs and thick cock, pink and ready. Aziraphale settled himself back on the bed and spread his legs slightly. “Like what you see?” said Aziraphale, lightly teasing. </p><p>      “Ngk. Y-yeah,” said Crowley, tangling his fingers in his lap.</p><p>      “Remember to breathe, darling. Perhaps if you touched yourself first,” said Aziraphale. Crowley took a deep breath and skimmed his hands down his own chest, down his thighs, then back up to the vee of his hips. He shivered and chanced a look up. Aziraphale was watching with rapt attention and gave him an encouraging smile. “So good for me.” Crowley flushed harder. </p><p>      “Can I...?” he muttered. Aziraphale nodded, biting his lip. Crowley crawled forward and extended a hand, gingerly touching the inside of his thigh. His skin was soft, and his white-blond hair trailed up to halo his cock.</p><p>      “Mm, my chest,” breathed Aziraphale. Crowley shifted closer and cupped his small breasts, then rolled his nipples between his finger and thumb. Aziraphale closed his eyes and let out little sounds of pleasure, pressing his chest into Crowley’s hands. Crowley bowed his head and licked at them, basking in the whimpers this drew from Aziraphale. He grasped Crowley’s shoulders and shifted his hips. “L-let me know if you need to slow down, dearest. Oh, just like that,” said Aziraphale, arching his back. Crowley skimmed his hands down to touch Aziraphale’s soft belly, then his sides. He burrowed his face in his neck. </p><p>      “You’re voluptuous, angel, that’s what you are,” he mumbled. “Soft and warm and sexy, all for me.”</p><p>      “All for you, my darling,” said Aziraphale. “Touch me as much as you’d like.” Crowley pressed his chest against him, breathing in his scent. Aziraphale’s hips shifted back and forth involuntarily, his chest flushed with want. Aziraphale ran a hand down his side and toward his groin, then paused. He felt Crowley nod and gently touched his cock, letting him push his erection against the palm of his hand, leaving a trail of precum. Crowley gasped and clenched his hands, keeping his eyes closed. “Are you sure this is okay?” said Aziraphale. </p><p>      “I’m sure. And you’re... sure?”</p><p>      “I’m sure, my darling boy. So good for me,” he murmured. Crowley whined and thrust his hips forward. “And, for tonight, would you rather penetrate, or be penetrated?” Crowley let out a huff of laughter.</p><p>      “You know, I don’t think anyone else has <em> ever </em> phrased it like that, angel,” he said, grinning. </p><p>      “Well the question still stands, my dear,” said Aziraphale primly, wrapping his hand around Crowley’s cock and stroking gently. “Of course, we could do something that doesn’t involve penetration at all.” Crowley gasped and bit his lip. </p><p>      “Could, um...” started Crowley, speaking indistinctly, his lips pressed against Aziraphale’s shoulder as he leaned toward him. </p><p>      “Yes, my dear?”</p><p>      “Could I sit in your lap?” said Crowley. Aziraphale nodded and opened his arms.</p><p>      “Of course, Crowley. I take it, then, that you want me to penetrate you,” he said, a smile playing on his lips. Crowley whined, between embarrassed and needy, as he clambered into Aziraphale’s lap and arranged his legs. </p><p>      “Mmmph, yessss,” he hissed. Aziraphale shuddered.</p><p>      “It would be my pleasure,” he said, wrapping his arms around him. Crowley snuggled closer, his head on his shoulder. Aziraphale unwrapped one arm to summon a bottle of lubricant. He collected some on his fingers, then reached between them to stroke Crowley’s erection once more, his fingers sliding across the hot, soft skin. He hummed and grasped Aziraphale’s shoulders. Aziraphale teased his fingers lower, tracing the seam of his perineum before circling his rim. He slipped his middle finger into him, and Crowley melted in his arms.</p><p>      “Ohhhh fuck, angel. That’s nice,” sighed Crowley. Aziraphale drew his finger out and pressed back in, slowly curling his finger. “Mmm, ahhh.”</p><p>      “There we go, just relax for me, my <em> darling </em> boy,” murmured Aziraphale, gently thrusting his finger. Crowley closed his eyes and let more of his weight rest against Aziraphale’s soft lap, his arousal pleasant but not urgent. There was the sound of air being displaced, a flutter, and a change in the light. Crowley looked and saw his angel’s wings wrapped around them, keeping the rest of the world at bay. He made a noise in his throat that he would have denied on pain of torture to be a whimper. “<a id="return1" name="return1"></a><em>Mea levavot ihiyu meat midai kdei lehakhil et kol ha`ahava sheli elaikh </em><sup>[<a href="#note1">1</a>]</sup>,” murmured Aziraphale, holding him close. Crowley whimpered again, tears springing to his eyes. He sniffed and gasped, halfway between a laugh and a sob.</p><p>      “Y-you can’t just say things like that while you’re fingering me, angel,” he said, smiling. </p><p>      “Well, it’s the truth,” said Aziraphale, who had the decency to look sheepish. “My love for you doesn’t diminish because I happen to be...”</p><p>      “Fingering me,” finished Crowley, slyly.</p><p>      “Ahem, yes. Well, I could always stop fingering you to express my love,” said Aziraphale, teasingly.</p><p>      “No.”</p><p>      “No?”</p><p>      “Want another finger,” he said, once more burying his face in Aziraphale’s shoulder. </p><p>      “Anything for you,” he whispered, pulling out and slowly pushing back in with two fingers. Crowley’s body opened for him, and he stretched and curled his fingers, spreading the lubricant deeper. Crowley was a warm weight in his lap, twined around him like a vine on a tree. He moaned and sighed, and Aziraphale could feel his cock twitch against his stomach. </p><p>      “Feels so good, angel,” Crowley murmured. </p><p>      “That’s right, darling, I just want to help you feel good. My brave, beautiful Crowley,” said Aziraphale. “Would you like me to keep preparing you, or...?”</p><p>      “I would rather prefer to commence the penetration, my dear fellow,” said Crowley, stuffily, mimicking a posh accent. Aziraphale smiled despite himself. </p><p>      “You know very well I don’t talk like that, Crowley,” he said, removing his fingers. He wiped the excess lube on his cock, then lifted Crowley right off his lap, wrapping his hands under his thighs. Crowley steadied himself with a hand on Aziraphale’s shoulder and bit his lip. </p><p>      “Fuck, angel, I always forget how strong you are,” he said. Aziraphale gave a self-satisfied wiggle, preening. </p><p>      “Well, it wouldn’t do for the general public to know, but I have no compunctions about feats of strength in private,” he said. “Now then.” He began to lower Crowley, adjusting him effortlessly until his cock was nudging against Crowley’s loosened hole. Crowley tried to press himself down, but Aziraphale kept the pace glacially slow as the head of his cock popped inside. </p><p>      “Ohh, fuck yes,” gasped Crowley, clenching around him. Aziraphale shuddered, then resumed slowly, slowly easing his cock into Crowley until he was once more sitting in his lap. </p><p>      “How does that feel, darling?” said Aziraphale, his wings trembling slightly. </p><p>      “Good. Hahh, full,” said Crowley, his head thrown back, his brow furrowed. He adjusted his legs and began lifting himself up and letting himself drop back onto Aziraphale’s thick cock. Aziraphale rolled his hips, meeting each downward motion with a thrust, making Crowley whimper unsteadily. A bead of sweat ran down his back, and Crowley relished in the slight burn of his protesting muscles as he steadily fucked himself, gasping and grunting as his angel’s cock pressed against his prostate. Aziraphale growled, pressing their foreheads together.</p><p>      “I can’t stand those little noises you’re making, my dear. You’re driving me wild.”</p><p>      “Angel, fuck, can you...” Crowley trailed off, his mouth hanging open on a shaking gasp. Aziraphale wrapped his hand around Crowley’s cock and began stroking, rubbing his thumb against the crown and frenulum. Crowley gripped his shoulders, whining and bucking his hips. He came with a whine, his cock spurting cum onto Aziraphale’s belly as he stroked him through it. He could feel his hole fluttering around Aziraphale’s cock as the glow of orgasm flowed across his body. </p><p>      “M-my darling,” murmured Aziraphale, having let go of his cock to hold him close, wrapping him in arms and wings. Crowley smirked to himself and clenched his arse rhythmically a few times before Aziraphale came as well, an expression of rapture on his face. “Ohhhh, Crowley,” he sighed. He lifted Crowley off his cock, making him whimper at the sudden emptiness, before setting him back on his lap. He folded his wings away and leaned back against a miraculously well-situated pile of pillows against the headboard. </p><p>      “Don’t think I’ll be able to walk for a while here,” said Crowley, running a hand through Aziraphale’s curls. </p><p>      “I’ll just have to carry you, then,” he replied, dozily. </p><p>      “Oh no~” said Crowley, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “That’s not what I want at alllll.” The pair of them laughed, quietly, still embracing. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p><a id="note1" name="note1"></a>1<sup>1</sup> "A hundred hearts would be too few to carry all my love for you," in Hebrew [<a href="#return1">return to text</a>]</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for reading, kudos and comments are delightful</p><p>Please feel free to check out my website at https://kateglittoris.wordpress.com/</p></blockquote></div></div>
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